Not-So-Charming Prince
by WinterLock
Summary: She never thought she would be forced to meet with the dark and mysterious neighborhood mechanic under such awkward circumstances. Where could this encounter lead to for Levy and Gajeel?
1. Chapter 1

_Levy's POV_

She had never meant to start playing so hard in the snow, but once the snow balls started flying and taunting jeers hurled back and forth between the two sides, Levy couldn't help herself. She had never been one for arm strength, or strength of any kind for that matter, but just the thrill of the little white orb launching from her fingers and zipping through the air made her feel_ big_ for once.

She was having so much fun with the guys, she didn't notice the deep pothole behind her as she took a step back to aim another snow ball. She didn't notice the sharp, rusted metal support bar sprouting from the concrete like a jagged tooth. She didn't notice, that is, until she stepped backwards.

Her foot found emptiness where there should have been ground. The pothole was extraordinarily deep, and her leg went in a good foot. The metal rod gouged into the side of her calf, causing her to scream out in pain. She fell onto the ground, the blinding pain in her leg pushing tears over the brim of her eyelids, and try as she might she could not push them back down, no matter how tightly she closed her eyes.

Two of the guys she had been throwing snow balls with, Jet and Droy they had said their names were, cried out to her and rushed over, only to be blocked as a dark, menacing shadow fell over Levy. The two boys coming to her aid froze, and backed off a few steps.

Her eyes were still closed, but she heard the deep thumping of snow being crushed under heavy boots, then the rustle of thick fabric as someone knelt down by her side. She dared to crack one eye open, and found two glaring red ones staring right back at her. And then both her eyes were as wide open as they could possibly be, and through a tight throat, she stuttered out his name in little more than a whisper.

"G-G-Gajeel..."

He wore black. Black shirt, black leather jacket, black jeans, black biker gloves, black bandanna holding back his black hair. Black everywhere. Metal piercings adorned the bridge of his nose, the cleft beneath his lips, the curves of his ears, and the ever-frowning eyebrows above his crimson eyes.

Tall, dark and mysterious, he was the neighborhood troublemaker who was on everyone's run-for-your-life-when-you-see-him-coming list. Everyone knew him without actually knowing who he was. He had no friends as far as anybody knew. The only time anyone came to see him was to get their vehicle serviced at his shop. He was dangerous, and mean, and scary, just the kind of person a good girl like her avoided at all costs. He didn't care about anyone else. So just what did he intend to do now?

He merely grunted in reply to her whimpering, his sharp eyes moving down to the long, bloody gash on her leg. She heard him curse under his breath when he saw how rusted and dirty the metal protrusion was, and then he was looking at her face again.

"I-I'm okay," she insisted, before he could ask, not that she expected him to. She pulled her leg out of the hole and tried to stand, only to be met with an annoyed "Tch", and two muscular arms as they slid themselves under her and hoisted her against his chest.

A startled, "Eep!" escaped her lips as he turned and began walking toward his mechanic shop across the street, ignoring the fuming glares of Jet and Droy.

"Stop!" she ordered in small, wispy voice, kicking her one good leg and pushing against his arms. "I can walk!"

"Liar."

His voice startled her. It was so deep as to nearly be a growl, but at the same time it was smooth and held dark cadences that Levy had never heard anywhere else. Despite her fears of the tall man, she found herself fascinated by the single word he had spoken to her thus far, even if he was technically insulting her.

Not willing to let herself be put down so easily, Levy tried again.

"I wanna go home," she insisted, pushing all the harder against his grip. His arms were like iron vices, becoming more and more secure around her the further she struggled.

"Would ya quit squirming, Shrimp!" he suddenly snapped, making her tense. "That damn spear you stuck yerself on musta been infested with at least seventy-two kinds of infections. You want your leg to fall off in a week? No? Then quit yappin' and sit still."

Levy, now utterly terrified, clamped her mouth shut and tried her best to shrink into oblivion, but it was kind of hard not to be noticed by the man who's lugging you around like some damsel in distress. It wasn't like this was one of her fairy tales with a Prince Charming and...

Levy nipped that thought in the bud before she had the chance to finish it.

Gajeel circled around to the side of the large, gray building, kicked open the back door with a boot clad foot, stomped in and slammed the door again in much the same fashion. They were in a moderately sized room. Inside the room was a cot with a small pillow and a blanket to the left, a table and chair to the right and a kitchenette in the far corner.

Levy's eyebrows went up. He lived here, in his shop? Not the most ideal accommodations, even for a man such as him.

He strode over to the cot and laid her down in a surprisingly gentle manner, then turned toward the kitchen cabinets and began to rifle through them, grumbling uninterpretable things to himself.

Levy was unsure of what to do now. Here she was, sitting in the residency of the most feared man in town, the proverbial dragon's den, waiting for him to tend her wounds. This was a dream, wasn't it? Things like this just didn't happen to people like her.

Gajeel turned toward her again, his arms full of an assortment of medical supplies. Among the jumble, Levy recognized a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and flinched. That was going to smart. The dark-haired man eyed her, as if sizing her up. The bluenette felt herself shiver beneath his gaze.

Seeming to make up his mind about whatever it was he had been considering, Gajeel went over to her, laying down the collection of materials at the foot of the cot and kneeling down on the floor beside it.

Gingerly, he took her leg in his callused hands, and Levy couldn't help but notice how much he dwarfed her petite body by his mere leaning over her. His thumb grazed the raw, red flesh, and the bluenette let out a quiet hiss of pain. He paused, ruby eyes flicking to her face. She bit back the pain and gave him a small nod, hoping he couldn't read the discomfort on her face too well.

Before continuing further, he peeled the gloves off of his hands and shrugged out of the leather jacket, tossing both articles on the floor near the head of the cot. The shirt beneath was sleeveless, allowing Levy to fully appreciate the exceptionally toned muscles of his arms, the shoulder portion of which was inked over by a dark, enigmatic tattoo.

And then there were the scars. Some were small and trivial, like the nick of a paper cut or the slip of a kitchen knife. But others were long and gruesome, carving a pale horror story that no one had yet been told into his tanned flesh.

Levy caught herself staring and quickly looked away as he began unfastening the laces of her boot.

Wait, what?

She mentally slapped herself. It wasn't like that, he was just examining her injury like he would with one of the engines he could so skillfully repair.

The boot slid off her foot easily. Then came the sock, the white knitted fabric now stained crimson. Carefully and gradually, he slid the leg of her pants up over the gash, rolling up the hem a little ways past her knee. Levy sighed at the tattered rip in the material. These were one of her favorite pairs of winter pants, too.

Her leg up to the knee was now bared to him, revealing the deep cut that now appeared more ugly than she had first thought it would be. She grimaced at the sight of her own skin, torn and bleeding. A sick feeling began to swirl around in her stomach.

"I'm gonna have to disinfect it," he informed her, glancing up as if to earn approval.

Levy only nodded mutely, feeling too woozy to put words together.

Gajeel reached for the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a plastic package of cotton balls, retrieving one of the fluffy wads and dousing it in the transparent liquid. Without further ceremony, he swiped the moistened cotton across the gash.

The sting was sharp, but the pain was minimal and far preferable to that which Levy had experienced upon first receiving the wound. She even managed not to flinch too noticeably.

He continued to clean the cut, each stroke of the cotton wad bringing on a new wave of prickling pain. Finally, he was satisfied, and after applying a small amount of an ointment she didn't recognize, reached for a roll of bandages. His hands worked smoothly and fluidly as he bound up the wound, the gauze almost seeming to move on its own under his fingers. Soon, the cut was completely hidden beneath the clean white material.

Levy sighed in relief. The pain had decreased drastically, and she actually found herself relaxing, settling down into the soft blanket and warm pillow beneath her.

"Don't get too comfy there, Shrimp," came his deep voice.

Levy, despite having convinced herself to fear the man, found herself glaring. "That's not my name," she said, nearly instantly regretting the words as soon as they left her lips.

To her surprise, he grinned cockily at her.

"Sheesh," he said in mock complaint. "You lend a girl a hand and all ya get in return is attitude. There's some ladylike behavior for ya." He chuckled a low, amused chuckle.

Levy felt her cheeks flush with heat, and looked away, embarrassed at herself for being so ungrateful.

"So what is it then?"

She looked back at him, surprised. "W-what?" she stuttered, caught off guard.

He rolled his eyes mockingly. "You don't want me to call you Shrimp, so I assume the next step would be to tell me what your name really is."

Levy blushed even harder, now a mumbling, nervous wreck. She had never imagined that lean, mean Gajeel the gangster could have a side to him that was so...nice? Nervously, she rolled down her pants leg and began to replace her sock.

"It...it's Levy," she muttered, staring determinedly at her foot as she pulled her shoe over her sock, wishing he would suddenly be stricken with color blindness so he wouldn't be able to make out the red tainting her face.

"It's a pleasure, Shrimp," he said, cocky smirk still in place. "The name's-"

"Gajeel Redfox."

Again, the words were out of her mouth before she could consider what consequences that might follow them. If it were at all possible, Levy's blush deepened to an even rosier hue.

The man arched a studded eye brow. "My reputation precedes me, I see," he noted. She might have been imagining it, but Levy could have sworn she heard a suggestive tone in his voice.

"It's not like it's weird, or anything," she blurted, a little too hurriedly. "Everyone knows who you are. Small town, and nosy neighbors, and..." The sentence trailed off into awkward nothingness.

"Yeah, nosy," he murmured, the grin returning.

An extremely unbearable silence followed, making Levy squirm uncomfortably on the cot.

"I should go home," she said suddenly, moving to get up off the cot.

"Alrighty," Gajeel agreed, turning his back toward her, still in a kneeling position, and looked at her out of the corner of his eye expectantly.

Levy blinked.

"Well, whatchya waiting for, Shrimp?" he demanded.

"W-what do you mean?" the bluenette stammered, thoroughly confused.

"Unless you wanna hobble all the way home in the dark by yerself, I suggest you hop on."

The blush that she had only just managed to suppress came flooding back into her cheeks as Levy realized what he was trying to do.

"Y-you don't have to...I'll be just fine if I-"

"Look," he said firmly, a serious glint coming into his red eyes. "I ain't lettin' you walk home all by yourself with a scrape like that, but..." A mischievous smirk crept across his features. "...You could always bunk here for the night, if that's what you'd-"

She was on his back before the last words could leave his mouth, small fists bunched in the fabric of his shirt.

"Let's go!" she quipped, praying he wouldn't take her hastiness the wrong way.

"Thought so," Gajeel said with a chuckle, reaching for his jacket and pulling it over both of them. Her body pressed a little closer to his back as he tugged the sleeves into place on his arms. Looping his hands under her knees, the dark-haired man stood, careful not to jar her injured leg too roughly.

"How ya doin' back there, Shorty?" he asked over his shoulder.

Levy was smoldering with embarrassment, and her answer was muffled by the fabric in front of her face. "I feel like a backpack," she muttered, making him laugh loudly. It was a round, healthy laugh, not like the teasing chuckles she had received from him so far.

"You're small enough to fit in one, Shrimp," he replied, shifting her weight to free a hand so he could open the door.

"I thought you said you were going to stop calling me that," Levy mumbled crossly.

"Did I?" he asked mischievously.

Recalling their early conversation, the small girl cursed inwardly, realizing his exact words had not actually included a promise of any kind.

"Meanie," she jabbed around an exhausted yawn.

"Where to, your Highness?"

"53 Beach Nut, apartment A12," she answered sleepily, seemingly unconcerned that she had just told him her exact address. As he began walking around the corner and down the street, the cold wind nipped at her rosy cheeks, so she snuggled down a little deeper between the warm leather jacket and the hard muscles of her not-so-charming Prince's back.

Oh, heavens, had she just thought that?

Oh well, she was too tired to worry about it, and anyway it sounded kind of poetically romantic, in a comical, dry-humored sort of way.

The steady heaves of his pace only served to lull her deeper into a dreamy daze, and before she knew it, she was being spoken to, though she did not bother to answer, and then carried through a very familiar looking doorway, and then laid down on a cozy couch surrounded by piles of books that she was fairly sure belonged to her. The last thing she remembered before slipping off entirely was the warm leather jacket being tucked around her shoulders and the sound of heavy boots retreating and a door clicking softly shut.

_Good night, Gajeel, my not-so-charming Prince..._

_Flashback from Gajeel's POV_

He hadn't meant to settle down so comfortably in that tiny hell hole of a town. It kind of just...happened. The owner of the mechanics shop had recently been arrested for some crime or another, leaving the place abandoned and with no one to care for the vast assortment of iron and steel treasures within. Having a soft spot for engines and the like, Gajeel had sort of just moved in. Sure, people stared openly in shocked fear and given him an extremely wide berth when he walked down the street, but that was the way it had always been with him. That was the way it was supposed to be.

As much as the good people of the city strove to avoid him, cars break down eventually, and soon he had a short list of hesitant customers whom he grudgingly offered assistance to, for a price, of course. He made a good living doing what came most naturally to him, and before he knew it, he had a little living compartment set up in the back room and a pack of stray cats that waited for him to feed them at nightfall, and as their now fixed routine was quite set in stone, he saw no reason to disappoint the cats. Though he was reluctant to admit it, cats were another soft spot of his.

Life became easier than when he had worked for the gangs back in the big city. Needless to say, he missed the fist fights and illegal jobs and the whole flying-by-the-seat-of-your-pants fiascos that his so-called "team" always got him into, but it was nice to just relax and be normal for a change. Besides, every once in a while, he would take his bike in to pick up the occasional freelance side job, just to make sure he kept his edge. And then there was always the little gym down the street where he worked out. Lily, the owner of the place, had done well to keep him on his toes in the ring.

For the first time in a long while, Gajeel's life felt normal.

And then _she _moved into town.

He still remembered it quite vividly. It had been Thursday, May fourteenth, nearly a year and a half ago. A rusty little moving van had spluttered down the street, right past Gajeel's shop, giving him a small glimpse of the head of bright blue hair behind the wheel. He had thought nothing of it at the time, thinking it was just some family traveling through town on their way to somewhere more interesting, which would have been anywhere at all, in his opinion.

Later on that day, he had gone out to get tuna for the cats, and that's when he had first seen her. She had been moving into the apartment building on the corner three blocks from his shop. Two movers were helping her, following her patient orders to move the many, many, many boxes she had with her, the contents of which Gajeel could only begin to imagine.

For whatever mysterious reason, the tall man had paused outside the door of the grocery store and taken a moment to simply look at her. Not-quite-shoulder-length blue hair, big round brown eyes, yellow t-shirt, white capri pants, and short as hell. Seriously, she only came up barely past his elbow. Then again, he was noticeably tall, but still. Someone had gotten the short end of the gene stick.

Gihihi...he'd made a joke.

Gajeel smirked at the small form of the girl conducting the two men. "Congratulations, Shrimp," he grumbled to himself. "You brought a streak of humor out in me. That's not something you see everyday."

With that, he had entered the grocery store without another backwards glance.

It had only gotten worse from there.

He lived in, as afore-mentioned, an extremely small town, so it was inevitable that he chanced a glimpse of her every so often. She was most often to be seen at either the book store or the library, both of which being places Gajeel had never so much as thought of setting foot in. He was not the biggest reader you'll ever meet. Apparently she was, though. You could almost always find her with her little nose wedged between the pages of a book. She walked past his shop almost every day, albeit on the other side of the street, and he found himself noticing things about her.

He noticed the cheerful spring in her step, the happy little smile that always graced her lips, the bright sparkle in her hazel eyes. She was a spot of bright color in his world of dim workshops and steel machinery. He noticed how she behaved toward everyone, with a kind and sweet demeanor that most of them didn't deserve to experience. He did notice, however, that her small chats with people she came across on the street were not personal, merely a polite hello. They were not intimate conversations.

She had no friends. No real friends, anyway.

Another thing he grudgingly noticed was the way those two idiots leered at her from behind corners, never once taking the initiative to speak to her. It made him grind his teeth, the way their eyes would light up whenever she passed by them.

This reaction made no sense to him. She was no possession of his, so he had no right to be angry if some one else tried to claim her first. He wouldn't want to drag some one so happy and well-off into his hurricane of a life, anyway. He was content to merely observe.

Even so, he could never prevent that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach on those rare occasions were their eyes met, and he caught a flicker of fear in her chocolate-brown orbs. He always looked away first. He told himself that this was the way it was supposed to be...wasn't it?

Damn. He had never added those last two words to that sentence before. He already had two soft spots to worry about. Surely there wasn't enough room in his cold iron heart to allow for a third, right?

That one, frosty, snow-filled day proved him wrong.

He hadn't known what she was doing, playing around like a six-year-old outside the shop, nor had he really cared, being absorbed in the repairs of an extremely picky motorcycle engine.

But then he heard the scream. He hadn't quite figured out yet how he knew it was _her_ scream, but the next instant, the wrench he had held in his hand was clattering on the floor and he was hastily shoving his arms into a leather jacket to shield his bare arms from the waiting cold.

He couldn't count all the times he had walked past that hell of a pothole and wondered when the hell some one was going to fill it before some idiot came along and broke their leg falling into it. If he had been able to foresee this, he would've packed the damn thing full of concrete himself.

For the first time since he had seen her, there was true pain on her face as she lay in the snow, and a genuine tear slid down her cheek. He hated it. She was supposed to be happy and cheerful, those emotions and that tear had no damn right to be on her face.

He had warded off the two scum bags with a well-aimed glare easily enough, but she was another matter. After the usual expression of stunned fear everyone displayed when coming face to face with _him,_ she tried to brush him off, tried to stand on her own two feet as if one weren't almost torn in half.

As if.

Before he knew it, she was in his arms. She was even lighter than she was short, and he had no trouble carrying her, except for the fact that she was still trying to squirm out of his grasp and walk on her own. She really was an idiot if she thought that was gonna happen.

Still, he shouldn't have yelled at her like he did. It made her look even more hurt and scared. He cursed himself at the frightened look on her face.

Entering his living quarters, removing her shoe, bandaging the wound, all of it passed in something of a blur for him. He tried talking to her, and she _talked back, _actually spoke to the man who she should have been fleeing from. It felt like a dream, or a nightmare, he wasn't quite sure which. She had a sharp tongue when she needed it, and wouldn't back down easily, even if it was against him, the proverbial dragon. It was kind of refreshing.

The piggyback ride he had done on a whim, not really expecting her to accept the offer. He even teased her about staying, just to see if she would-

Well, that was fast. He remembered her small hands twined into the material of his shirt, stiff with embarrassment as he pulled on the jacket and walked out the door. He could feel her falling asleep even as he walked toward her apartment. The door was unlocked, so he went right in. Damn, she had a lot of books. At least now he knew what had been in all those boxes those poor blokes had been forced to move for her.

It was so unusual to be carrying such a small and fragile creature on his back that it almost felt wrong. But, at the same time, right, as if she_ belonged_ close to him.

But she couldn't...right? Even as he tucked his jacket around her curled-up form on the couch, he wondered this. Nothing so good and innocent and beautiful could exist so close to him. Nothing had in such a long time, but maybe...

He left the apartment with the thought incomplete, not daring to venture to that particularly dusty corner of his heart. Not yet.

As he walked slowly through the dark streets back to his shop, the cold wind biting at his nose and uncovered arms, he knew he had started something, lit a fire under his own rear end. But maybe the burn would be better than watching the flames flicker from far off, wondering what their warmth would feel like.

Now he was thinking in romantic metaphors. Damn, this girl was changing him.

But for better or for worse, he had yet to see.

_Sorry it's so long! I was really in the mood and the words just kept gushing out. Hope you liked it! I'll have the next chapter soon. Thanks for reading!_

_WinterLock_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Levy awoke from her wholesome sleep to the twitter of birds chirping and the smell of worn leather under her nose. It carried the sharp scent of metal and many other odors she could not identify.

Wait a second...

Levy sat up suddenly, the large black jacket sliding from her shoulders and into her lap. Her brown eyes widened as the events of the previous day tumbled into her mind like an avalanche. She blushed furiously at the recollection of the piggyback ride. A piggyback ride! From Gajeel Redfox! No one was going to believe this.

Not that she _would_ tell anyone. Oh, heavens, no. No one would ever know the thoughts that had passed through her head as the tall, dark-haired man carried her home. No one. Ever.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Levy got up from the couch, gingerly testing her injured leg. Aside from a very slight limp, the pain was virtually gone. She thought curiously of the ointment he had put on the cut.

Walking to kitchen, Levy draped the jacket over a kitchen chair and went to make coffee and start her breakfast, frowning all the while. She still couldn't quite figure out what his aim had been in assisting her. Did he want something from her? Or was he just being decent for once?

Levy scolded herself at the last mental remark. She had heard plenty of terrifying accounts from her neighbors concerning Mr. Redfox, but, until last night, she had never spoken to him herself. She refused to pass judgment on some one whom she didn't know personally, no matter how scary they looked, or how many tattoos and piercings they had, or how badly they could make you shudder with just one glance.

Without realizing it, she shivered, remembering the sharp red eyes that were so cool and yet so blazing at the same time. Gajeel Redfox was certainly a mysterious man, a human enigma. Levy, being very fond of the Nancy Drew series, had a soft spot for real-life mysteries. Maybe this was one she could solve.

After coffee and breakfast, the young bluenette went to shower and change out of yesterday's clothes. Once she was dressed in a bright orange sweater and jeans and her hair was dry and tied back with her favorite orange bandanna, she returned to the kitchen and sat in the chair opposite from the one over which the jacket was hung, and fell to staring at it intently.

_I should return it, _said one voice in her head.

_But he's scary, _said a second voice. _Like, _really _scary._

_ But he helped me, _Voice One argued.

_But that doesn't make him _not _scary, _Voice Two refuted.

_I guess I'm just gonna have to be brave, right? _Voice One asked.

_He'll probably give you that glare, _Voice Two warned. _You know the one, where he locks eyes with you and it feels like your soul is being read like an open book and your insides are about to gush out of you and spill all over the floor._

Levy ground her lower lip between her teeth, glaring at the jacket as if _it _were to blame for her indecision.

_It won't happen, _she thought firmly. _I can stand up to him._

Before her second voice could present another argument, Levy snatched the jacket from the chair, bolted to the door, grabbed her own purple coat and burst quickly through the doorway and out into the new morning.

The air was very cold, but clean and fresh, and the sun shone from between clusters of puffy white clouds, warming her face slightly when she stood still. Levy zipped her jacket up all the way to her chin, gripped the black jacket with one hand and stuck the other in her pocket. With a deep breath of frosty morning air, she began walking determinedly down the street towards the mechanic shop.

When people saw the usually cheerful bluenette strutting down the street with such a serious look on her face, they hastily stepped aside to let her pass, wondering what could have her so miffed. Levy didn't notice this. She was too busy thinking of what she would say once she finally got herself there. Should she be warm and friendly? Grateful and appreciative? She wasn't exactly sure how to behave around him, gruff and uncaring as he was.

"Just be yourself," she said out loud, drawing the attention of a few curious onlookers. Again, this went unnoticed by the short girl.

Suddenly, someone shouted behind her. Levy turned to see the two boys from yesterday, Jet and Droy, running towards her.

"Hey!" called Jet, a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay?"

Levy smiled at them. "Yes, I'm fine," she answered.

"Did that freak do anything to you?" Droy asked in a harsh whisper.

"Wha...?" It took her a moment to realize they were talking about Gajeel. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "No, of course he-"

"Are you sure?" Jet asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.

Levy found herself slightly angered by his assumptions. She straightened up a little, staring right at the man before her.

"Mr. Redfox," she said firmly, "was so kind to go out of his way and help me the other day. He even ca—uh, walked me home afterwards. He was quite a gentleman, so you have nothing to be concerned about."

Jet blinked, his mouth opened a little, surprised at her sudden bluntness and initiative.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," continued Levy, making to turn and leave, "I must return this to him. Good day." With that, she whipped around on her heel and strode down the sidewalk, her limp all but vanished in the face of her renewed determination.

How dare they assume such things about the man who had helped her! It's not like _they_ were the ones who had scared _him _off and taken her into their house to recover. They were gossiping cowards, the both of them.

Levy stopped herself, taking a deep breath to calm down. She shouldn't think too badly of them. They were just trying to make sure she was okay, after all. What decent sort of person wouldn't, after seeing some one carted off by such an intimidating giant of a man. She decided she must bring herself to forgive them.

Levy paused, realizing she had come to the part of the town where Gajeel's shop was located. To be exact, it was right across the street.

It was a very tall building, tall enough to have a second floor, and painted entirely gray, like the cold steel he worked with. There was one long window across the front, and two closed garage doors taking up the right side of the building. Near the left corner stood the door, steel, of course.

Levy stared at this door from across the street, all of the solid composure she had assembled only a moment ago suddenly draining away from her. It was incredible how intimidating a door can be when you know who's waiting on the other side.

Levy took a shuddering breath, squared her shoulders, and, with the jacket clenched tightly in her hand, marched across the street. For a few moments she simply stood in front of the door, wondering if she should knock or just waltz right in. It was a public shop after all. But, then again, it was _his _public shop, which didn't make it anymore inviting.

Finally, she reached out with a hesitant hand and turned the cold metal knob. The door swung open with an ominous creak, allowing her a view of the cluttered, dimly lit workshop within. There were florescent lights strung from the ceiling, but none of them were lit, save the one in the far left corner of the room, flickering with what Levy guessed were its last dying watts. In place of the nonfunctional lights, mismatched lamps were placed strategically throughout the room, lighting up the long tables piled high with machinery and tools. There was plenty of metal scattered about the floor, as well, shoved up into corners and teetering in unsafe stacks. Several spare engines and other vehicle parts Levy didn't recognize were lined up on shelves mounted on all the walls.

At a large work table against the right wall near the back of the room sat Gajeel. His back was angled mostly to her, so she could only see a part of his face. He wore a gray tank top and black cargo pants, both stained heavily with numerous substances, and his long black hair was tied back by a thick cord. He sat in a tall wooden bar stool, his boot clad feet propped against the cross pieces. On the table before him lay the remains of some ancient carburetor.

Red eyes swiveled to stare at her as she walked slowly in, and a studded brow shot up, almost in a question.

"O-oh...hi," Levy stuttered, clutching the jacket a little closer to her chest.

The man continued to stare silently, his usual glare fixed into his features.

"I...I came to return this," she continued, holding the jacket straight out in front of her with a stiff arm.

Gajeel seemed to relax a little once she said this, and, turning back to his work, said, "You can put it anywhere."

Levy glanced around. There was nothing but cluttered tables. If she put it on any of them, he would probably never be able to find it again. Then, she spied a hook screwed crookedly into the wall to her left and walked over to it as quietly as she could so as not to disturb Gajeel again. She quickly hung the jacket, her fingers instantly feeling nervous with the lack of an object to hold onto.

Levy was at a loss as to what came next. Should she leave? No, she couldn't leave yet. There were words hanging in the empty air that needed to be spoken. But her tongue was practically frozen, and not just by the cold outside. She stared hopelessly at his broad back from across the room. He seemed so cold and closed off today, as if the Gajeel from last night had been replaced by a reclusive counterpart. Levy let her gaze fall down to her shoes, completely unsure of what to do.

"You need something, Shorty?"

Levy jumped slightly at the deep voice, her eyes jolting back up to look at him. He was now turned on the stool to face her, one fist resting on his knee and the other hand fiddling with an iron nail he had between his teeth.

"Oh, well...no..." she mumbled, a nervous sweat slicking her fingers.

"Then whatchya hangin' around this dump for?" he inquired.

Levy had never felt so puny in her life. His ruby eyes bored down into hers, making her stomach twist in the way that only he could make it.

"W-well, I just...wanted to say..." she fumbled, trying to force the words off of her tongue so she could leave. She saw his eyebrow arch in a belittling manner, making her even more nervous than she had felt before.

"Thank you," she blurted quickly, a light blush rising in her cheeks.

The dark-haired man gazed at her for a few moments, calculating. Then he shrugged and turned back to his table.

"No problem, Shrimp," he murmured, small clinking sounds resonating throughout the room as his skillful hands fiddled with the metal pieces before him.

Levy's blushed deepened at the nickname, feeling more and more diminutive with every second spent in his presence.

"Well," she said through the awkward silence. "I'll...just be going, then." She turned and took a step towards the door, but froze when his voice sounded from behind her.

"How does it feel?"

"Huh?" Levy said nervously, feeling stupid for using such a dumb-sounding reply.

"Your cut," he prompted. He was still turned away from her, working at the engine. "Does it hurt anymore?"

"Oh," Levy murmured, looking down at her leg, even though it was covered by her jeans as well as the bandages beneath. "It—it feels fine," she said, though she knew she didn't sound very convincing.

"You'll have to change the bandage sometime today," he grumbled, almost to himself. His hands halted in their movement, as if he were thinking about something else. "In fact, I'll do it now," he continued, reaching for a rag to wipe his oil-blackened hands on.

Levy felt her heart stop, and then speed up.

"Y-you don't need to," she insisted a little too quickly. "I have bandages at home, and..." She trailed off as he made his way to the back of the work shop, apparently ignoring her. At the back of the room stood a door that Levy guessed must lead to the living space in which he had treated the wound yesterday.

Gajeel reached the door and opened it, glancing back at her with a look that said if she didn't get over there that instant, he would come and get her.

With a quiet sigh of defeat, Levy strode quickly to the door and passed through it. The room beyond was unlit, and Gajeel closed the door behind them, leaving her stranded in complete darkness.

"G-Gajeel?" she whimpered after several moments of darkness. She had been terrified of the dark ever since second grade, when a monstrous storm caused a power outage at her house.

"Hang on," came his reply, followed by shuffling sounds and a soft _click._ The overhead light flickered to life, far dimmer than it had been the other day, but slowly gaining power over time.

"Sit," he instructed, gesturing to the cot and moving into the kitchen. Levy did as she was told, plopping down on the narrow cot and unfastening her shoe lace. She heard the faucet running as he scrubbed his hands clean of the last streaks of motor oil, watching as he dried his hands and began gathering things from the counter to his left.

Levy's eyebrows went up. He had left all of yesterday's bandages and ointment on the counter. She couldn't help but wonder if he had done so in anticipation of her visit.

She shook her head sharply, chasing the thought from her mind. He was probably just disorganized, that's all, like the kind of person who doesn't put things away when they're done with them. Judging from the state of his workshop, she concluded that to be the answer.

"What's wrong." The question was spoken in such a flat voice that it was hardly even a question.

Levy looked to find him staring suspiciously at her. He must have seen her shaking her head.

"It's nothing," Levy insisted, blushing with embarrassment as she rolled up the hem of her jeans to reveal the white bandage wrapped around her shin.

Gajeel said nothing, walking over to her and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the cot. His rough fingers brushed her skin as he began to unwind the gauze, and Levy had to force herself not to shiver.

"Sorry...if I'm bothering you," she said softly, feeling she should say something to end the uncomfortable silence between them.

His sharp red eyes flicked up to her face, then back down to her leg.

"You're not," he said. "Sometimes I need a break from those rusted piles of junk."

Levy frowned slightly, looking down at him curiously.

"Does it ever get lonely?" she asked. "Working in here all by yourself?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt like she had crossed a line that only the most oblivious idiot would dare to cross. They were in personal territory now.

Gajeel's brow crinkled with a small frown as he answered. "No, oddly enough," he said, much to Levy's surprise. The reply had come far more easily than she had expected. "Engines are almost like people to me," he went on, examining the long gash marring her skin, the spent bandages in a somewhat bloody pile at his side. "It's real people who I treat like machines, when it should be the other way around."

Levy blinked at his sudden show of interest in the conversation. Could it be he was warming up to her, if only just a little?

He gave a soft chuckle. "It's damn weird, I know, but-"

"No!" Levy interrupted, startled by the sincerity in her own own voice. "I-I mean, it's the same way with me," she continued nervously, a little quieter this time. "With my books, and all. I get so absorbed in the world of the story that real life becomes the story and the story becomes life, you know?" She tried a weak smile.

Gajeel blinked, a surprised expression on his face, as though he hadn't been expecting her to try and answer him. He cocked his head, either in thoughtfulness or confusion Levy couldn't tell.

"Yeah," he said slowly, reaching for the fresh bandages. "That makes sense."

Levy felt herself deflate at his response, sensing that he didn't truly understand.

"Well, I guess there isn't that much in common between books and engine," she muttered.

"Sure ain't, Shrimp," he answered gruffly, winding the new gauze around her leg.

Levy looked away and puffed her cheeks at his casual bluntness, knowing full well she shouldn't expect him of all people to care about her feelings.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Levy looked back at Gajeel, who had finished the bandaging and was staring at her with a frown. She blinked, not understanding his question.

"What do you mean?" she asked, releasing the air from her mouth and frowning back.

"That thing with your face just now," he explained, waving a finger in her face.

A furious blush bloomed on her face when she realized he was talking about the cheek-puffing thing. She always did it when she was angry or annoyed with some one. No way was she explaining that to _him_.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she spluttered, standing quickly.

He stood up too, towering over her with an insistent expression.

"Yeah, you do," he said accusingly, planting his hands on his hips.

"You're just...imagining things," Levy protested, looking everywhere but at his face.

He glared down at her with searching crimson eyes. "I ain't imagining nothing," he growled. "You're hiding something."

Unable to think of another excuse, Levy blurted, "ThanksforthehelpI'llseeyoulaterbye!" and slipped past him toward the door, turning the knob and pushing. Nothing happened. She pushed again. The door wouldn't budge. Levy braced her feet against the floor, desperately trying to shove it open.

"Try pullin', Shrimp," came his dry voice from behind her.

Now in all-out-blush mode, the flustered bluenette yanked the door open and practically bolted in between the tables toward the front door. She cursed herself for behaving so childishly as she turned the knob on the front door. Without thinking, she pushed, and the door remained closed. Growling furiously, she pulled it back, nearly ripping the door off its hinges, and stomped out, catching the faintest sound of a "Gihihi" wafting from the back room. She slammed the door shut and walked down the street with rapid, furious steps.

She felt so enraged with herself for behaving as she had. She would never be able to look Gajeel Redfox in the eye again without blushing like a love-sick idiot. At this realization, Levy's quick pace slowed to a miserable plod and a gloomy cloud of shame hung over her head.

She would never be able to live this one down.

_Flashback from Gajeel's POV_

Gajeel had grudgingly accepted a long time ago that she was undeniably cute, but _damn_, she was infinitely cuter when she was angry. That bright red blush that contrasted her blue hair had almost had him doubled over laughing. The little scene she made with the doors had even dragged his signature laugh out of him. He had managed to contain his amusement for the most part, however, not wishing for his tough-guy image to be sullied too badly.

He hadn't been too sure that she would return the jacket herself. Hell, he had practically expected her to mail the thing to him even though his shop was only three blocks from her apartment. But she had seemed so scared of him the other night, (again, something that only magnified her immense cuteness), he wasn't certain she would ever be able to so much as walk past his place without fleeing in terror. He had left the medical supplies out on the counter, just in case.

Against all odds, there she had been, standing awkwardly in his doorway, clutching his jacket like it was her sole life line to this world. She still held that fearful tension towards him, but she had come, for whatever weird reason.

Gajeel had forced himself to be his usual grim self in her presence, convincing himself that he should treat her like he did everyone else for the sake of his hard-earned image. One couldn't go about changing one's entire heart and demeanor for the sake of a short, too-damn-cute little bluenette girl, after all.

He loved how he could invoke the most rosy blush from her with just the slightest tease, the littlest suggestion in his voice. It was so easy for him to get a desirable reaction from her that it was maddening torture _not _to tease her. He had restrained himself for the sake of her feelings, though. Didn't want to scare off his new means of entertainment, now did he?

That's how he had convinced himself to think of her, as entertainment, nothing more. No more soft spots in this old lug nut of a heart, no sir.

The hell was he kidding?

He liked her spunk. Her bravery. Her freakin' cuteness. The way she had answered him, tried to form a connection with him.

And then to have him blow her efforts off like that...

He had a little work to do in the whole socializing department, but at least what they had was _something._ Right?

Nobody else in this town had been able to capture his attention with so little effort like she had. Maybe that meant something. Maybe, just maybe, he could _make_ it something.

_Hehehe now things are getting fluffy! Again, sorry if I dragged this one out too much. I just can't seem to stop once I get going with these two. Fear not! I'll work on that little kink. Next chapter is gonna be fluff and RVS (Romantic Verbal Sparring), the chapter after that is gonna be a FLUFFALANCHE, and all the ones to follow will be fluffiness incarnate!_

_Enjoy!_

_WinterLock_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

_Levy's POV_

Over the course of the next week, Levy never once saw Gajeel. This was probably because she avoided the block where his shop was located at all costs. The time it took her to walk to the library everyday increased by a good ten minutes thanks to the new route that cut a clean semi-circle around the mysterious shop. It was the very place she loathed to think about, and yet the place she found herself wanting to go to more often than she would have liked to admit.

In order to keep her mind off that _place_ and it's tall, dark owner, Levy got herself a new job.

The Cafe Strauss was literally right across the street from her apartment. She went there almost every morning for caffeination before venturing off to the library. It was small, but quaint, clean, and a hot spot for all the happy-go-lucky citizens of the small town, the crowd Levy felt most comfortable with. The owner, Mira Jane, was an acquaintance whom Levy had put down on her might-possibly-want-to-get-to-know list. She was friendly, popular, and not to mention stunningly gorgeous. What a model-material girl like her was doing in this small town Levy had yet to figure out.

Mira had been more than happy to give Levy something to do on the weekends, claiming that Levy would be "a little happy ray of sunshine that customers will look forward to".

The uniform wasn't too shabby, either. A forest-green polo with a cut that flattered Levy's figure, a comfortable blue jean skirt that came down just above the knees, and covered by a little black waist apron that completed the behind-the-counter look.

It was at this uniform that the small bluenette gazed as she prepared herself for her first day of work. Levy had added black leggings to protect her legs from the nipping cold outside, and her feet were clad in ankle-high leather boots with just enough heel to add a little sass to her demeanor.

Levy gazed at her reflection in the mirror as she tied back her wild hair with a white bandanna. Nodding in satisfaction, she grabbed a jacket from the coat rack by the door and her purse from the hallway table and set out into the streets of the bustling town.

This morning was as cold, if not colder than the day before, and Levy had to pull her coat tight around her shoulders to keep out the frosty wind. Thank heavens it was only a short walk across the street.

Mira soon had her set up behind the counter, relaying useful bits of information about the more regular customers and the systems she used to keep the shop running smoothly. Levy had worked at a coffee shop for the summer two years ago, so she could operate most of the machines employed in the concoction of Mira's delectable refreshments, which made it only easier for Mira to entrust the place to her while she went out.

"Sorry I have to abandon you like this on you first day," Mira apologized as she pulled her fluffy purple coat onto her shoulders, "but I'm afraid that Elfman was very insistent when I spoke to him on the phone."

Levy smiled brightly. "Don't worry," she assured her new boss. "I'll be fine. Besides, you said Lisanna would be coming by soon, right?" I can hold down the fort until she gets here."

Mira returned her smile, appearing somewhat relieved. "Thanks so much, Levy. I just know your employment here will benefit everyone. Well, I'm off then!"

The silver-haired beauty gave a dainty wave and exited the café, calling farewells to the customers seated at the tables.

Levy took a deep breath once she had gone, fixing her mind on the task ahead. It would be nice, working like this again. As long as it kept her mind off of certain undesired thoughts, she would be quite happy.

For the first hour or so, business went remarkably well. The customers were pleasant, talkative and friendly, the work load was busy but not overpoweringly so, and the café was filled with the easy hum of conversation. Everything was running like a well-oiled machine.

But, as Fate so often demonstrates, it was not to last.

Levy was putting the finishing touches on a cinnamon caramel frappé, humming softly to herself, when suddenly she heard the bell above the door ring out, followed by the slam of the door. The room became uncharacteristically quiet as the sound of heavy boots thumped towards the counter. Even the song playing over head seemed to be dampened by the sudden ominous presence.

Levy swallowed hard, somehow knowing exactly who had just walked in. Slowly, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the wild black hair tied back by a red bandanna and the heavy black leather jacket covering the oil-stained white shirt beneath. Biker-gloved hands leaned onto the counter as cold red eyes zeroed in on her own.

Quickly, Levy snapped her head back to the drink before her, squeezing whipped cream onto the top while trying to keep her hands from shaking. Every embarrassing thing she had ever done or said to him suddenly flooded into her mind, making it nearly impossible for her to beat down the blush rising on her face.

Levy pushed the lid onto the top of the cup with a loud _snap, _inserted a straw through the hole and turned around.

His expression was cold and blank, much like it had been when she first walked into his shop several days ago. The other occupants of the room were all turned in their seats to gape fearfully at him, but he ignored them all as if they weren't even there.

Levy swallowed again, trying not to let her nervousness show. She set the plastic cup down on the pick-up counter and hesitantly made her way to the cash register.

"Hi." The word came out squeaky and far too quiet, but it was all Levy could manage.

The shadow of a smile flickered at the corner of Gajeel's mouth.

"Morning, Short Stuff," he answered gruffly.

Levy felt her lips twist into a disapproving frown and her eyebrows crinkle together. The nicknames were really starting to get on her nerves.

"What can I get for you?" she asked in a clipped voice, deciding she would treat him like any other customer, thus denying him any amusement he may have been seeking.

One studded eyebrow arched ever so slightly as he answered, "Just gimme something black and strong."

Levy quirked her own brow up curiously, pondering. "I didn't know you came here," she murmured, her thoughts becoming words without her permission. Like practically everything else she spoke to him, she regretted the words as soon as they were past her lips.

"Come again, Shrimp?" Gajeel said, leaning down a bit.

Despite Levy's determined efforts, the first hints of a rebellious blush began to show on her cheeks. So much for treating him like a customer.

"Oh, n-nothing," she stuttered, looking away. "I was just thinking...well, it's just that I've never seen you in here before, so..."

A deep noise came from the back of his throat. After a moment, Levy realized it was a chuckle. She looked up to see that hint of a grin widen by a fraction.

"Coffee pot's busted," he explained.

"Oh," Levy said. "Can't you fix it?" Yet another extremely regrettable sentence. Levy slapped herself mentally.

Gajeel frowned uncertainly at her. She realized what he was thinking and tried to make amends.

"W-what I meant was...I mean, you fix all of those engines so it just occurred to me that..." The sentence petered out lamely. "Um, never mind," she muttered, turning to find something black and strong, her face still slightly pink.

"First books, now coffee pots," came his voice from behind her. "Is everything like an engine to you, Shrimp?"

The blush grew a shade darker.

"No," she snapped back, not facing him as she spooned fresh coffee grounds into a machine with a little more vigor than was necessary.

Another rumbling chuckle emanated from the dark-haired man. The sound of it sent shivers down Levy's spine.

"Quit teasing her, Gajeel," a sweet voice piped up.

Levy turned to see Mira's younger sister, Lisanna, coming from the back room, a large duffel bag over one shoulder and a smile across her face.

"How are Mira and I supposed to run this place if you scare off all our employees?" Lisanna continued, setting her bag down.

Gajeel grunted in annoyance. "I don't see her runnin'," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

A knowing gleam came into Lisanna's eyes as she turned to Levy. "Hmm, very true," she agreed, her voice thoughtful and mysterious. Her bright smile returned a second later, however, when she stuck out her hand. "You must be Levy McGarden," she said cheerily. "Mira has told me so many wonderful things about you."

Levy did her best to smile back, shaking the hand extended to her. "That's me," she answered, temporarily spared from her previous predicament.

"Sorry I'm late," Lisanna went on. "There was a little mix up with the luggage at the airport. I can take over now if you want a break."

Levy nodded, feeling relieved at the thought of rest. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

Gajeel, who did not take kindly to being ignored by the two girls behind the counter, cleared his throat loudly. It sounded more like a growl than anything else.

Levy jumped at the sound, earning a satisfied half-grin from the tall man.

"I ain't stickin' around here if more of _your_ kind keep showin' up," he grumbled, glaring at the ever-smiling Lisanna. "I'm outta here."

Levy frowned. "What about your coffee?" she asked.

Gajeel paused in turning away from the counter, his red eyes falling on her. "Well, if you care so much, Shorty," he said, flicking a crumpled five dollar bill onto the counter, "why don't ya bring it to me."

"W-w-what?" Levy spluttered, a blush flaring up on her face.

"You heard me," Gajeel answered over his shoulder as he began walking towards the door. "I know you know the way, Shrimp. See ya in a few."

Before Levy could object, the door was swinging closed behind him, the bell tinkling ominously in his wake. Levy stood frozen, mouth agape, staring at the five dollar bill on the counter.

The sounds of muffled giggling came from beside her, and she looked to see Lisanna with both hands over her mouth trying to contain bubbles of laughter.

"It's not funny!" Levy insisted, only causing the other girl to erupt into a new fit of giggles.

"I think he likes you," Lisanna observed between laughs.

"That-that's impossible!" Levy protested, busying herself with preparing the coffee, a furious blush scorching her face. "He's mean and cruel and...and-"

"Don't be silly," Lisanna said, finally recovering. "It's just his love language. He doesn't know how else to connect with people."

Levy glared at her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. "You say that like you know him," she noted.

Lisanna leaned against the counter. "We used to work together, along with Mira and Elfman and a few others. It was fun, but those days are over now." A fond look came into her eyes, as if she were remembering those times.

Levy filed that little piece of information away for further study, pouring a steaming stream of liquid black into a to-go cup. She secured a lid on top and then stared down at the cup, at the same time willing it to disappear so she wouldn't have to deliver it.

"Better get going," Lisanna advised. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting when it comes to morning caffeination."

Levy glared at the girl beside her whose sunny smile never wavered. It was like Lisanna knew that she wouldn't stay angry with her, and this was true. Levy could already tell that they would be good friends.

"He can wait," Levy replied snappishly, heading for the side door and snagging her jacket off the rack mounted on the wall. "A person like him needs to learn a little patience."

"That's the spirit," Lisanna said, winking. "Now, all he needs is someone to teach it to him."

Levy rolled her eyes, doing her best to ignore that last comment. "Well, see you in a-"

"Oh, wait a sec!" Lisanna interrupted, snatching the pencil and notepad from the counter and scribbling something down. She tore the sheet off, folded it into quarters and held it out to Levy. "Can you give him this for me?" she asked sweetly.

Levy took the paper hesitantly, unsure of her new friend's intentions. "Why, what is it?" she questioned.

"You have to promise not to peek," Lisanna replied in a sing-song voice, opening the side door and thrusting Levy out into the cold air. "See you in a little while!" Lisanna gave a little wave of her fingers, and before Levy could open her mouth to speak again, the door was slammed shut.

Levy stood there awkwardly for a few moments, shuffling around in a little drift of snow that had gathered outside the door, the accursed coffee cup in one hand, the suspicious slip of paper in the other. With a defeated huff, the bluenette made her way to the main street and began walking.

The trip to the shop was far shorter than she had first thought it would be, and soon she was staring intently at the cold iron door knob that she knew she would eventually have to turn. But not yet. A little courage had to be dug up first. All of it had been buried deep down by the heaps and mounds of fear and embarrassment. It would take a while for her to-

The door opened. Gajeel stood in the doorway, a very irritated expression on his face. Apparently Lisanna had been correct about his morning caffeination.

"Took ya long enough, Shrimp," he growled.

Levy was frozen to the sidewalk, voices in her head screaming things like, _Close the door! I wasn't ready! _And, _Stop calling me Shrimp! _No real words came out of her mouth, however, which only caused Gajeel to be more irritated.

"What're you standin' around for?" he barked. "It's damn freezing out here!"

With that, he took hold of her left upper arm, pulled her inside and slammed the door shut behind her.

Levy felt herself tense. She hadn't been planning to come inside. A simple drop off and walk off would've been peachy for her. Apparently, Gajeel didn't seem to agree.

Her right hand suddenly felt strange, and she looked down to find that the coffee cup had vanished. A series of deep, rapid gulping sounds hinted at where it had gone. Levy looked up. Sure enough, Gajeel had his head thrown back with the cup practically vertical against his mouth as he consumed the beverage within.

Levy crossed her arms and looked away, waiting for him to finish. His hulking form stood between her and the door, making it impossible for her to leave without his consent. It was a very trapped feeling.

The sound of dripping water caught her attention. Levy glanced around at the tables of metal and spied the source of the sound. It was a coffee pot, or, what was left of one. The glass pot was distinguishable enough, but the actual mechanism had been entirely disassembled and lay in several sorry piles across the table. Curiously enough, the entire thing sat in the middle of a puddle of water that dripped off the edge of the table and onto the concrete floor.

Levy ventured over to the ruined device, prodding cautiously at a little pile of screws.

"Wow," she murmured. "It really _is _busted."

"What, didn't believe me, Shrimp?" Gajeel grunted from behind her.

Levy shrugged, not turning to him. "I just didn't think you meant _busted _busted. How did this happen, anyway?"

She heard him grumbling softly to himself, many of the low words sounding suspiciously like curses. Something about a cat?

Suddenly, Levy remembered the small paper clutched in hand, and turned to fulfill her second errand.

"Um, Gajeel?" she called. He had wandered farther back into the workshop, seemingly looking for something among the engines mounted on the wall. The coffee cup had disappeared from his hand, most likely discarded among the mounds of steel.

"What," he answered, eyes still skimming the shelves.

Levy let out an annoyed breath. She wished he wouldn't be so gruff. She could tell he was starting to warm up to her just the tiniest bit, but he was still essentially the same sort of person she had assumed he was before they met, unfriendly and inconsiderate.

"Lisanna wanted me to give this to you," she said flatly, holding out the paper.

Red eyes targeted the message in question, narrowing to slits at the mention of the younger Strauss.

"Lisanna, huh?" he repeated in a low voice, making his way back over to her. "Growin' up to be just like her sister, always sticking her nose around where it doesn't belong." Gajeel, still muttering to himself, snatched the slip from Levy and unfolded it. Judging from the time it took him to read the words written therein, the message was short, and judging from the split second it took him to transform the paper into a flurry of little white shreds, it was not to his liking.

He began growling angrily, about Mira and Lisanna, and something about a blue cat. He appeared to be seriously put out.

"Are you okay?" Levy asked, looking up at him. She instantly regretted reminding him she was still there.

His glare was piercing and cold as it fell on her. Levy could barely keep from flinching away as he took a step closer.

"You need anything else, Shrimp?" he asked in a threatening voice. "Or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Levy should have felt fearful, intimidated, endangered even. But, oddly enough, she felt kind of annoyed. He didn't have to go and be all tough-guy like that, especially with her. She had seen the side of him no one else in this town had ever witnessed, and she knew he was just putting on a show.

"No need to be so snappy," she huffed, glaring up at him. "I was just asking."

A flash of surprise flickered across Gajeel's face, as if he hadn't been expecting her to respond in such a way. Well, she had news for him. The surprise was masked in the next instant, however, replaced by his usual scowl.

"I'm fine, okay?" he muttered, looking away.

It was Levy's turn to be surprised. She had not expected him to give in so easily, if an obscure reply could even be considered "giving in". She looked down at her shoes, unsure of what to say next.

Suddenly, she felt a large hand roughly tousling her hair, causing several strands of it to come loose from the headband and fall over her face.

"By the way, you make a good cup of coffee, Shrimp," she heard him say, a hint of better humor in his voice.

Levy pulled away, out of his reach, blushing with anger and attempting to stuff the runaway locks back underneath her headband.

"That's nice," she answered, "but I'll have you know we aren't running a delivery service for anyone else, so..."

He bent down to smirk eye to eye at her. "I guess that makes me special," he said teasingly.

Levy puffed her cheeks. "Don't count on that," she snapped back, turning and marching towards the door. "I'm too busy to bring you coffee, _and_ I have the right to refuse you service."

She heard him bark a short, loud laugh. "Just try refusing me anything, Shrimp," he answered, "and I'll come by sometime and make you very _un-_busy in a very ungentlemanly way."

Levy felt the blush on her face rise a few degrees in temperature. She jerked the door open, careful to pull and not push, and shouted one last time over her shoulder, "Threatening me doesn't help, you know!" She slammed the door and bolted down the street towards the café before he had a chance to reply.

A gentle snow had begun falling outside. Her rapid breath came out in icy puffs, and the delicate snowflakes wafted down and became caught in her hair and eyelashes.

The next thing she knew, Levy was giggling.

Wait...giggling? Why on earth should she be giggling? She had just been threatened by the most terrifying person she had ever come across, and if she had to guess, she would say that he never left a threat empty.

But that, in and of itself, was the reason she found herself laughing. Because somewhere deep, deep, _deep _down inside, she knew he wouldn't ever try to hurt her. For whatever crazy, ludicrous, irrational reason, Levy felt _safe _with him, intimidating as he was. But, she figured that the intimidating side of him was just a shell, a barrier he had built up to protect himself from...well, she didn't know exactly what yet, but, maybe, if she went very slowly and carefully, she could peel away that shell, layer by layer, and find out who he truly was.

Because, Levy McGarden knew one thing for certain: Gajeel Redfox was doing exactly that to her.

_Flashback From Gajeel's POV_

Gajeel, as we have already quite thoroughly established, was not the best people person. No, his favor lay elsewhere, with his engines for instance. His motorcycle in particular he found to be an excellent replacement for human company. But, there is something about another living creature that no human being, no matter how reclusive and black-hearted, can resist, something companionable and personal.

And there is something about the tiny cry of a cold, hungry, injured little black kitten scratching at your door that you simply cannot refuse. Gajeel had thus far drawn the line at cats living in his home. Sure, he would leave out bowls of food on the doorstep for his little pack, but not a single paw was permitted past the entryway. He really was going soft. The evidence of this was in the tiny muddy paw prints leading from the kitchen counters to the work shop, and the serious of scratch marks across the sleeves of his favorite leather jacket, and not to mention the obliterated coffee pot that a certain kitten had seen fit to bump right into the kitchen sink while the faucet was running.

Damn cat.

Coffee was essential to Gajeel, an absolute necessity that could not be neglected. But, with his coffee pot busted, the only other nearby source of caffeine would be the Cafe Strauss. Gajeel had mentally shuddered at the thought of meeting up with that she-devil. Mira was always prying into his business, trying to make sure he was "getting on all right". Just in case, he had peeked in the window of the cafe before going in, and found himself pleasantly surprised.

She was the very last person he expected to see behind the counter, just as he was probably the very last person she would expect to see coming into the cafe. He did, after all, avoid the place studiously. But now, maybe coming here every once in a while wouldn't be so terrible.

The look on her face when she turned to face him at the counter, the bright blush she had so obviously tried to hide as she spoke to him, the squeak in her voice with every word that went past her lips...all of it was worth the drawback of meeting the younger Strauss.

Lisanna was looking well, he had to admit, and had retained her usual cheery attitude after all this time. As irritated as Gajeel had made himself appear, it was good to run into an old friend.

But, even with Lisanna there to attempt defending her, the Shrimp had given him the perfect opportunity to torment her. He didn't even know why she even tried to hide the blushing; the people in the next state over could probably see that bright red face of hers. She was a little beacon of cuteness.

_Dear Gajeey-wajeey,_

_ I bet I know what Happy would be chanting if he could see you guys!_

_ Xoxo, Lisanna_

That note from Lisanna had sort of ruined his mood, however. Completely and entirely obliterated his mood, in fact. Perhaps this was because he knew deep down inside exactly what that stupid blue cat boy would be saying.

_You liiiiiike her!_

Gajeel had to mentally murder the thought to prevent it from reoccurring. The extremely unmanly nickname she had come up with for him didn't help at all.

He hadn't really meant to snap at the Shrimp. He had something of a temper, and she just happened to be the nearest person on which to take it out.

But, then she snapped back. Gajeel was certain that cuteness meters all over the world had exploded with overload when she puffed her cheeks. He had known that it wasn't "nothing" she had been doing that one night. As if she could hide anything from him for long. She was a simple puzzle: layers upon layers of different emotions and demeanors. He had simply stripped away the topmost layer.

He could sense something broken hidden underneath all the layers she had accumulated. This was one thing Gajeel could understand, one thing he could relate to. It made him want to fix the brokenness, like on that day in the snow, seeing her lying there with her leg torn open. He wanted to heal her, to _protect _her, to show her that with him, she would have no need of those protective layers anymore.

He knew one thing for sure: she was doing just that to him.

_Okay, so I feel like the end of this chapter is a little more mushy-heartfelt-emotional-turmoily than the others, and the whole thing is not quite as fluffy as I had intended. But we shall get to the fluff, I promise you! I hope this update wasn't too long-awaited. I'm kind of juggling between this one and Make You, so bear with me! I would also like to take a moment to personally thank everyone who left me a review and followed and faved this story. You guys are just too good to me, and...and...*sniffle* oh, heavens, I think I'm crying. I LOVE YOU ALL! NEXT CHAPTER COMING SOON! _

_xoxoxo_

_-WinterLock_


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